Pippy's Page

Dear all,

I have been asked by our esteemed Chairman to write a few words about cricket. It has been pointed out that I occasionally split badly my infinitives but this is entirely acceptable, whatever the public school set may say. (Normally, this is something along the lines of "Nurse- the screens!"). That is, however, a side issue. I recall, as a young cricketer of apple-cheeks and unkempt hair, failing to strike a single delivery all season. Once. Not being of a cricketing brain per se, I felt it appropriate to draw on the experiences of my most renowned relation, who had forgotten more about cricket than most people have. Anyway, I digress. Part the First:

One Man and his Ashtray

'Time past and time future

Allow but a little more consciousness.'

Great Uncle Isaac Pentangle II recounted his experience whilst turning out for the Marconi Road Irregulars against Patsy’s Select XI, circa 1951. The game was close, by all accounts, with a late Patsy onslaught in the first innings securing them an enviable total of 47-9dec at lunch on the second day. There was a furore in the Irregulars dressing room as Bishop Arthur Singular-Tooth announced that no ashtray had been forthcoming from the serving wenches, whilst an offer to refill his stein had nevertheless been proffered. “Prong” (as his colleagues were wont to call him) declared that he refused to take to the crease until his request had been fulfilled. At this point, Dave “Ripper” Ripton (a lovely, homicidal maniac, by all accounts) came out in sympathy, saying that he would not pad up unless he had something to stub his Camel out in.

The dispute, if not the game itself, moved apace. It was pointed out to the said protagonist that no ashtray had ever been forthcoming: it had always been a matter of conscience for the individual player, involving a long walk to the bar. The one exception was the former doyen (now legend) of the Irregulars, Sir Philip Ten-Thwitt, who, apparently, had once been promised a receptacle for his Robusto, only ending up with the prospect of one should he practice his standing skills a little more.

The game ended in a thrilling draw, the Marconi Road Irregulars eventually declaring on the fourth day ten minutes before tea on 45-7 in their first innings.

The game is memorable, said my great uncle, for the conspicuous consumption of not just curry but sweat-meats also. No ashtrays were given to either team- before or after their repast. The Marconi Road Irregulars were disbanded at the end of the season due to lack of interest and dysentery. In that calendar year, Great Uncle Pentangle had amassed, he claims, a total of six ashtray deployments. This figure was later amended, after meticulous study of the sketches, to include:

3x disputed

1x stealing an empty muffin case from Aunt Bernard.

You will be pleased to hear that the other two occasions when ashtrays were awarded constituted a first (and thus, sadly last) success for the gentlemen as they were, without doubt, earned stubbings.

These fragments I have stored against my ruins

See you all at nets.

Pippy